Unraveling
by Mooncombo
Summary: Things begin to unravel with the arrival of Malachi Ben-Gidon and Ziva's realization of her father's impending visit. Takes place between Broken Arrow and Enemies Foreign.
1. Chapter 1

Unraveling by Mooncombo

Rated M

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Takes place between Broken Arrow and Enemies Foreign. Originally, this story was much different, but then the extended preview was released, and YIKES. I had to completly rewrite. Anyway, it makes sense to me that with the arrival of Ben-Gidon and the realization that Eli is coming, things might become strained between Tony and Ziva.

**A gigantic thank you to Schmaltzy and Sunshine80 **for their help with editing and encouragement while I wrote this story. Although, since I am out of time to get this posted before Tuesday night's episode, I didn't have time to give them a final read through. All errors are mine. Thanks, guys, you were more helpful than you know!

* * *

She's laughing right before he takes control of the situation.

He's not really sure he would be able to retrace the route from point A to point B, but he doesn't care. He sure as hell doesn't want to think too hard about what is happening between the two of them. What has been happening for a few weeks now.

He prefers to focus on the naked woman in his bed.

Well, maybe not completely naked. She's wearing his button down shirt that certainly looks much better draped across her form than it ever did on him. Arching above him with a giggle, her legs tighten against his hips as she slides slowly back and forth with an agonizingly slow rhythm. Fingers digging into her thighs, he urges her faster but she resists, still moving with deliberate care. She bites her bottom lip, hiding a smile as her eyes fall shut.

"Patience, Tony, patience," she directs with a sly smirk as she raises her hands to tangle into her own hair and lifts her hips only to sink down again.

Up.

Down.

Wandering fingers release the buttons on the shirt one at a time until the fabric is hanging off of her shoulders. Rough hands graze her stomach and her breasts; his thumbs brushing her nipples pulling a low half-whimper, half-laugh from her lips. She's losing the battle, but she hasn't surrendered.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he chokes out.

She takes her sweet time answering. Pretending to consider her response and nibbling on her index finger in mock concentration, she somehow manages to maintain an incredibly slow tempo.

"I'm punishing you, Tony," she finally replies.

"Oh, really?"

"Maybe you shouldn't have let your father think we were only co-workers."

And just before he flips them over so that he can properly show her the error of her ways, he smacks her on the ass.

She laughs.

Her eyes slide shut in that dreamy sort of way that she has, her breath coming in little pants until she tightens around him and comes apart with a sharp cry.

This time it is Tony that laughs against her mouth.

* * *

Lazy hands trace patterns along the smooth skin of her back. Sprawled face down on the cool sheets, she smiles drowsily against the pillow as he memorizes the feel of her body in a possessive way that for some reason feels better than it should. She is not fully awake when his mouth replaces his finger tips or when he finally covers her body with his own; pressing her deeper into the plush pillow topped mattress.

She's making these soft little sounds, almost humming to herself; that slight smile still playing along her mouth as he strokes in and out of her lazily. Her hips push back against him causing him to groan and he picks up the pace. She comes much more softly than before, that satisfied smile still present as she goes utterly pliant and soft beneath him. A few more strokes; harder this time, and he comes, too, collapsing against her back with a shudder.

He kisses her shoulder before rolling off her almost sleeping body. She remains sprawled on her stomach as he throws a heavy arm across her back; both of them slipping back into slumber.

* * *

A few hours later, he feigns sleep when he feels her stir beside him. He knows she is leaving - one of them always leaves - and he considers asking her to stay. Asking her to stay even if it is just for a few more hours but he can't quite force the words from his mouth.

But then he hears the beep of her cell phone. His arm is still draped across her back as she slips toward the edge of the bed and fishes for her jeans, pulling her phone from the back pocket. She slides off of the bed to pad silently to his living room, gently shutting his bedroom door behind her.

The hushed conversation taking place in the living room is most definitely not in English. He rakes a hand through his hair and attempts to squash the unease flooding his body at the sound of fluent Hebrew. He has no reason to assume the worst, but old habits die hard.

He forces himself to breathe deeply as if in slumber when she slips back into his room. She is almost silent as she slides her limbs back into her clothing. He doesn't stir when she kisses his cheek in farewell, but when she squeezes his hand he can't maintain the pretense and his fingers close around hers for a brief moment.

She sits for just a moment on the edge of the bed, tempted to climb back in and stay, but that was never part of the deal.

Her hand is on the door knob when he calls out softly, "Ziva, do I need to be concerned?"

When she answers, he almost believes her. _Almost._

"No. Sleep, Tony, I will see you at the office."

* * *

**_TBC._**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

**Thanks again to the wonderful Sunshine80 and Schmaltzy. **(Again - all errors are mine.)

**

* * *

**

"Malachi?"

"Hello, Ziva."

Ziva's mouth hangs open as she considers the implications of Ben-Gidon's presence in the alley.

"Oh, good. The Israelis are back." Tony's smart-ass remark goes unnoticed as Ziva finds her voice.

"What are you doing here?" she presses out, her voice stiff and controlled.

"Your team will be briefed soon," is his only response.

* * *

Tony doesn't outright object to babysitting Ben-Gidon and his sidekick in the conference room while Ziva, Gibbs and Vance have a pow-wow upstairs. He simply makes it more than obvious that he is unhappy with his current assignment.

"So, Mal, been a long time. How are things?" Tony inquires, leaning back in his chair and raising his feet to rest on the top of the long table. "It's been, what, a year? My how time flies."

"Agent DiNozzo, I can appreciate your sarcasm -"

Ben-Gidon and his friend exchange a look and really, Tony can only think about how good it would feel to punch him right in the mouth. He'd probably break a finger, but it would be totally worth it to smack that smug son-of-a-bitch-

"…in a joint effort between Mossad and NCIS…"

Tony's attention snaps back into place.

"Wait. NCIS is working with Mossad?" Tony asks, not even bothering to hide his anger.

"You will be read in on the assignment soon. I know Ziva-"

"No," Tony corrects. "You _knew_ her."

* * *

When Director Vance finally calls for Ben-Gidon, Ziva has already left the building. Tony calls three times and texts twice but his attempts to contact her go unanswered.

"I sent her home, DiNozzo. Leave her be for awhile," Gibbs tells him.

The rest of the afternoon and a good portion of the evening are spent processing paperwork for the previous case. The office is dimly lit as Tony and McGee finish the last of their reports. Finally, McGee breaks the silence.

"I don't suppose you know what is going on, Tony?"

"No, McGee, I do not. But I don't like it." Tony eyes McGee for a moment considering. "You know, Ziva got a call last night. She was most definitely not speaking English. It came in around midnight. I don't suppose you would be capable of tracing it?"

"Tony, we don't even know what is going on. I am definitely more afraid of Ziva that I am of you, so no, I will not trace her call."

Tony gathers his keys and his back pack and almost makes it into the elevator when McGee calls out, "Um, Tony, why were you with Ziva at midnight last night?"

With a _ding_, the elevator doors slide shut with Tony safely inside.

* * *

He calls her phone one more time before heading home.

She doesn't answer.

He half expects her to show up at his place, but she doesn't. He considers calling McGee and actually _begging_ him to trace the GPS in her phone, but he knows that Probie will argue and Tony certainly does not want to draw any more attention to himself and Ziva.

In the end, he ends up at her place.

She's home, which annoys him, but he wisely doesn't voice his opinion. She has changed into sweats and her hair is a mess. More importantly, her coffee table is littered with an assortment of weapons and a bottle of bourbon.

She doesn't give him a chance to ask her any questions before turning and walking back to her bedroom, pulling her sweatshirt over her head in the process. He follows closely behind and nearly collides with her when she spins around to face him. Placing her palms on his face, she drags his head down to hers and kisses him, her tongue flicking against his own. Her chest is pressed against him and he momentarily wants to give in to the distraction, his hand palming a breast for a moment before he comes back to his senses.

"What is going on, Ziva?" Tony asks softly.

"We're going to have sex. That is why you are here, yes?"

It takes a minute for the gravity of her statement to sink in and when it does, fury bubbles through his veins like acid. Burning and boiling. He suddenly wants to hit something.

"Wait. You think that I came over here just to _fuck _you, Ziva? That's it? It didn't occur to you that maybe I was concerned?"

She looks confused as if _he _is the one being irrational. And because she still hasn't figured out why, exactly, he is here, she tentatively asks him, "You don't want to have sex with me?"

The look he gives her is even more incredulous than the last.

"Yeah, Ziva, that can be the only reason that I called you five times this afternoon. For sex."

He leaves her standing there in her bedroom and goes to get his own glass of bourbon. When he doesn't return, she joins him in the living room, her sweatshirt back in place. He repeats his earlier question.

"What is going on, Ziva?"

She shrugs her shoulders indifferently.

"Oh, I get it," he says, "Secret Mossad business, right?" His voice is controlled as he says the words but she feels the thinly veiled anger behind them.

"I am not part of that world anymore, Tony. I don't know any more than you do -"

"That is not true. You know something," he cuts her off with a brisk wave of his hand. "I heard you on the phone the other night. You were speaking Hebrew."

"I was speaking to my cousin, Tony. That is not a crime. You could have just asked me."

He nods, some of his anger fading.

They finish their bourbon in silence. It is not quite comfortable, although not really uncomfortable, either. Eventually, when they find themselves back in Ziva's bedroom. She watches him undress uncertainly, suddenly not sure what to do.

"Sometimes, it is not just about sex, Ziva," Tony tells her quietly, slipping into her bed and holding his arms open for her to join him.

Tony tries not to notice the arsenal Ziva has stored under her pillow.

* * *

A/N: The 3rd and final chapter should be posted tomorrow night. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Last chapter. **Schmaltzy** and **Sunshine80 **- you guys rock. Thank you for your help. *hugs*

Tony and Ziva are not mine, but any mistakes are of my own creation.

* * *

Tony is not at all surprised to find Ziva gone when he wakes up in the morning.

He dresses and grabs the last of the coffee she left for him and runs out the door.

* * *

Palmer nearly crashes into Tony when he gets off of the elevator.

"Whoa there, Gremlin. Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Ziva is teaching Abby how to throw a knife… and well, it's kind of hot," he grins sheepishly at Tony.

Tony doesn't answer as Jimmy hurries into the elevator.

It turns out that Abby is better than anyone expected at throwing a knife.

Set up in the evidence locker is a makeshift target and an assortment of knives spread out on the table. It's the second display of weaponry that Tony has seen in less than twelve hours.

Abby comes close to hitting the dead center of the target and Tony whistles in approval.

"Nice job, Abs. Uh, Ziva, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Wrapping a hand around her arm, he drags her out of earshot.

"Why the hell are you teaching Abby to throw knives? What do you think is going to happen the next time Little Timmy forgets her birthday?"

"Tony, every woman should be able to protect herself. Someone needs to looks after Abby," she answers.

"First of all, Abby is more capable of protecting herself than you give her credit for. Second, women in this country take kickboxing. They do not throw knives. And third, why now? Why today?"

Ziva looks away.

"You think something bad is going to happen, don't you?"

She doesn't answer for a minute and he can feel the tension rolling off of her. She flexes her hands in a gesture of helplessness. He touches her arm, not caring for a moment that they are not alone.

"I do not know, Tony. Something is not right."

She leans into him without actually making contact for the briefest of moments before returning to Abby.

* * *

Two hours later, they are out in the field when Ziva and Gibbs get called back to the office by Director Vance.

By the time Tony and McGee finish processing the evidence, Ziva is gone and Gibbs tells them that they are to be back at 0700.

* * *

She's waiting for him in his apartment when he gets home with a glass of amber colored liquid. Wrapping an arm around his neck, she doesn't give him the opportunity to ask questions as her mouth closes over his.

She's on him in an instant. Pulling and pushing and ripping off clothing, she comes at him desperately. Kissing each inch of skin she exposes, his body responds to her insistent hands as she strokes and teases him. He knows he should stop this - whatever _this_ is - but he just isn't that strong. Besides, he learned a long time ago that when it came to Ziva, sometimes it was better not to ask questions.

She's simultaneously soft and tense and he doesn't know quite what to make of that. She kisses his neck and reaches into his pants, stroking and distracting him. Falling onto his bed, she has him mostly undressed before he even has a chance to unbutton her shirt.

She is soft and warm as she straddles him, sliding down his body to kneel between his thighs. Before he can even think, she has him in her mouth. Soft lips stroke and tease and if he could just focus…

He pushes her hair aside so that he can see her face, but she still doesn't look up. Doesn't really acknowledge him at all as she works her tongue over his erection. His hips twitch beneath her and he's so close.

He grabs her arms and drags her up against him, finally pulling the rest of her clothing from her body. His hands slide along her flesh and his fingers ease between her legs. She's hot and wet and certainly more than ready when he flips them over so that she is pressed into the sheets beneath him. Legs locking around his hips, she lifts hers so that they join easily.

Wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, she urges him faster and harder. He slams against her - more forcefully than he originally intended - but she's pushing him and making these rhythmic little whimpers against his ear. And that's when it finally dawns on him what is really happening. Everything is just a little too rehearsed. A little too practiced. And more than a little too precise.

He slows for a second, which only causes her to clutch at him more tightly.

"Don't stop. _Don't stop_," she rasps into his ear as she bucks her hips upward, urging him to continue.

But he's already losing momentum. Still sheathed within her body, he stops completely.

"Ziva, are you even enjoying this?" he asks, bluntly.

Feeling desperate and trapped, she squeezes her hands between their bodies and shoves her palms against his chest. Hard. Pushing at him, she squirms for a minute before he uses brute strength to keep her still while echoes of harsh breathing fill the space around them.

She reverses gears on him just as quickly, wrapping her arms once more around his neck and grasping him tightly. He feels one shudder and then another snake through her body.

"_Tell me_," he whispers against her temple. "Tell me what is happening to you."

Another shudder ripples through her. And then another until she is a shaking mess beneath him.

"My father, Tony," she chokes against his neck, her nails scraping his shoulder as she clutches at him. "My father is coming."

And for the first time in five long years, Tony sees Ziva cry.

* * *

**End.**

A/N: Man, would I love to see Tony punch Eli David in the face.


End file.
